Jack Vance - Planet of Adventure

THE MORNING DAWNED without wind. The sun rose into a bird's egg sky: beige and dove-gray around the horizon, pale gray-blue at the zenith.

The morning meal, as usual, was coarse bread, salt fish, preserved fruit, and acrid tea. The company sat in silence, each occupied with morning thoughts.

The Flower of Cath was late. She slipped quietly into the saloon and took her place with a polite smile to left and right, and ate in a kind of reverie.

Dordolio watched her with perplexity.

The captain looked in from the deck. "A day of calm. Tonight clouds and thunder.

Tomorrow? No way of knowing. Unusual weather!"

Reith irritably forced himself to his usual conduct. No cause for misgivings: he had not changed; Ylin-Ylan had changed. Even at the most intense stage of their relationship she had at all times kept part of herself secret: a persona represented by another of her many names? Reith forced her from his mind.

Ylin-Ylan wasted no time in the saloon, but went out on deck, where she was joined by Dordolio. They leaned on the rail, Ylin-Ylan speaking with great urgency, Dordolio pulling his mustache and occasionally interposing a word or two.

A seaman on the quarterdeck gave a sudden call and pointed across the water.

Jumping up on the hatch Reith saw a dark floating shape, with a head and narrow shoulders, disturbingly manlike; the creature surged, disappeared below the surface. Reith turned to Anacho. "What was that?"

"A Pnume."

"So far from land?"

"Why not? They are the same sort as the Phung. Who holds a Phung to account for his deeds?"

"But what does it do out here, in mid-ocean?"

"Perhaps it floats by night on the surface, watching the moons swing by."

The morning passed. Traz and the two girls played quoits. The merchant mused through a leather-bound book. Palo Barba and Dordolio fenced for a period.

Dordolio was as usual flamboyant, whistling his steel through the air, stamping his feet, flourishing his arms.

Palo Barba presently tired of the sport. Dordolio stood twitching his blade.

Ylin-Ylan came to sit on the hatch. Dordolio turned to Reith. "Come, nomad, take up the foil; show me the skills of your native steppe."

Reith instantly became wary. "They are very few; additionally I am out of practice. Perhaps another day."

"Come, come," cried Dordolio, eyes glittering. "I have heard reports of your adroitness. You must not refuse to demonstrate your technique."

"You must excuse me; I am disinclined."

"Yes, Adam Reith!" called Ylin-Ylan. "Fence! You will disappoint us all!"

Reith turned his head, examined the Flower for a long moment. Her face, pinched and wan and quivering with emotion, was not the face of the girl he had known in Pera. In some fashion, change had come; he looked into the face of a stranger.

Reith turned his attention to Dordolio, who evidently had been incited by the Flower of Cath. Whatever they planned was not to his advantage.

Palo Barba intervened. "Come," he told Dordolio. "Let the man rest, I will play another set of passes, and give you all the exercise you require."

"But I wish to engage this fellow," declared Dordolio. "His attitudes are exasperating; I feel that he needs to be chastened."

"If you intend to pick a quarrel," said Palo Barba coldly, "that of course is your affair."

"No quarrel," declared Dordolio in a brassy, somewhat nasal voice. "A

demonstration, let us say. The fellow seems to equate the caste of Cath with common ruck. A significant difference exists, as I wish to make clear."

Reith wearily rose to his feet. "Very well. What do you have in mind for your demonstration?"

"Foils, swords, as you wish. Since you are ignorant of chivalrous address, there shall be none; a simple 'go' must suffice."

"And 'stop'?"

Dordolio grinned through his mustache. "As circumstances dictate."

"Very well." He turned to Palo Barba. "Allow me to look over your weapons, if you please."

Palo Barba opened his box. Reith selected a pair of short light blades.

Dordolio stared, eyebrows arched high in distaste. "Child's weapons, for the training of boys!"

Reith hefted one of the blades, twitched it through the air. "This suits me well enough. If you are dissatisfied, use whatever blade you like."

Dordolio grudgingly took up the light blade. "It has no life; it is without movement or backsnap--"

Reith lifted his sword, tilted Dordolio's hat down over his eyes. "But responsive and serviceable, as you see."

Dordolio removed the hat without comment, shot the cuffs of his white silk blouse. "Are you ready?"

"Whenever you are."

Dordolio raised his sword in a preposterous salute, bowed right and left to the spectators. Reith drew back. "I thought you planned to forgo the ceremonies."

Dordolio merely drew back the corners of his mouth, to show his teeth, and performed one of his foot-stamping assaults. Reith parried without difficulty, feinted Dordolio out of position and swung down at one of the clasps which supported Dordolio's breeches.

Dordolio jumped back, then attacked once more, the snarl replaced by a sinister grin. He stormed Reith's defense, picking here and there, resting, probing; Reith reacted sluggishly. Dordolio feinted, drew Reith's blade aside, lunged.

Reith had already jumped away; Dordolio's blade met empty air. Reith hacked down hard at the clasp, breaking it loose.

Dordolio drew back with a frown. Reith stepped forward, struck down at the other clasp, and Dordolio's breeches grew loose about the waist.

Dordolio retreated, red in the face. He cast down the sword. "These ridiculous playthings! Take up a real sword!"

"Use any sword you prefer. I will remain with this one. But, first, I suggest that you take steps to support your trousers; you will embarrass both of us."

Dordolio bowed, with icy good grace. He went somewhat apart, tied his breeches to his belt with thongs. "I am ready. Since you insist, and since my purposes are punitive, I will use the weapon with which I am familiar."

"As you like."

Dordolio took up his long supple blade, flourished it around his head so that it sang in the air, then, nodding to Reith, came to the attack. The flexible tip swung in from right and left; Reith slid it away, and casually, almost as if by accident, tapped Dordolio's cheek with the flat of his blade.

Dordolio blinked, and launched a furious prancing attack. Reith gave ground; Dordolio followed, stamping, lunging, cutting, striking from all sides. Reith parried, and tapped Dordolio's other cheek. He then drew back. "I find myself winded; perhaps you have had enough exercise for the day?"

Dordolio stood glaring, nostrils distended, chest rising and falling. He turned away, gazed out to sea. He heaved a deep sigh, and turned back. "Yes," he said in a dull voice. "We have exercised enough." He looked down at his jeweled rapier, and for a moment appeared ready to cast it into the sea. Instead, he thrust it into his sheath, bowed to Reith. "Your swordplay is excellent. I am indebted for the demonstration."

Palo Barba came forward. "Well spoken, a true cavalier of Cath! Enough of blades and metal; let us take a goblet of morning wine."

Dordolio bowed. "Presently." He went off to his cabin. The Flower of Cath sat as if carved from stone.

Heizari brought Reith a goblet of wine. "I have a wonderful idea."

"Which is?"

"You must leave the ship at Wyness, come to Orchard Hill and assist my father's fencing academy. An easy life, without worries or fear."

"The prospect is pleasant," said Reith. "I wish I could ... but I have other responsibilities."

"Put them aside! Are responsibilities so important when one has a single life to live? But don't answer." She put her hand on Reith's mouth. "I know what you will say. You are a strange man, Adam Reith, so grim and so easy all at once."